When Probie Got His Groove Back
by PrairieLily
Summary: Tony helps McGee to understand, after they've both had a particularly rough day. No pairings just the guys, folks!ONESHOT.


**Title: When Probie Got His Groove Back**

**Rating:** T, for a couple of bad words and a questionable phrase that Tony utters. Probably theme, too.

**Disclaimer:** McGee, Tony, Gibbs, Kate, and Benedict are not my characters. None in this one that are my own creation. No infringement intended.

**Summary:** Tony helps McGee to understand, after they've both had a particularly rough day. ONESHOT.

* * *

Timothy McGee sat down at his kitchen table and sighed. He stared briefly at his coffee maker, gurgling and emitting steam from the top.It had been one hell of a day. 

He saw that the brew cycle was nearly finished, so he got up again and went to his cupboard, opening the door. He stared a moment at the NCIS mug that Kate had given to him shortly after Gibbs had laid claim to him and made him a permanent member of the team. He smiled briefly, then reached in, pulling it off the shelf. He set it on the counter, and reached into the cutlery drawer for a spoon, then turned as his doorbell rang.

"Damnit," he muttered to himself, as he peered through the peep hole. He rolled his eyes and opened the door.

"Tony, I'm not in any mood for you tonight."

Tony ignored this, pushing his way into the apartment. "Mmmmm… coffee. Got any hazelnut, Probie?"

McGee sighed and rolled his eyes for the second time in as many minutes. "Tony, I'm serious."

"So am I, McGee. After the day we've had, I could really use some of your coffee. Don't tell Gibbs, but it's way better than the stuff we get from his dealer."

"Actually, Tony," McGee said, not without some resignation, "After the day we've had, something a lot stronger than coffee is called for. But I'm not gonna do that."

Tony strolled over to the kitchen cupboard, heading straight for the one directly over the fresh pot of steaming brew. He reached in, and pulled out two insulated travel cups.

"Come on, McGee. We're going out. You need a break from this place."

"Tony, I'm not going anywhere. I just wanna lay low tonight. _At home_."

Tony gave him a look of regret. "Oh, I'm sorry, Probie. I didn't mean to make that sound like you had a choice." He grinned his DiNozzo grin. McGee closed his eyes, silently counting to ten.

"Double milk, right? No sugar?" Tony asked, as he headed for the refrigerator. When McGee didn't answer, Tony reached in and grabbed the carton, then paused a moment. "Or… do you prefer it black, tonight?"

McGee scowled briefly, his brows knitting tightly over his olive green eyes. "Whatever," he said, clearly displeased.

He watched Tony as he poured the coffee into the mugs, and fixed them up as he saw fit. He gave McGee a once over before handing him the insulated NCIS mug. "At least you're dressed this time, McGee. I didn't know you owned jeans."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Tony," McGee said, taking the offered cup. Tony turned and headed towards the closet by the door. Reaching in, he grabbed a jacket, and tossed it at McGee.

"We're going for a walk, Timmy. Don't like it, suck it up." This was met by a blank look - McGee was fresh out of dirty ones, having used them all up in the 10 minutes since his unwelcome guest had arrived. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, as if he were trying to keep his temper reeled in.

He paused only briefly, to lock the door, as they left the apartment behind them.

When they got outside, Tony chose a direction, seemingly at random.

"So come on, McGee. What's eating you this time? I know it's what happened today. So you shot someone. Again. It was different this time."

"Tony, that's not it. I mean, it is, but it isn't." His voice got quiet, and Tony's ears tuned in carefully to hear his colleague's voice as it got progressively softer.

"Yeah, I shot a guy, and he died. But I don't… Tony, I don't feel anything. When I think about today, what I did…"

Tony interrupted him. "What you _had_ to do, Kid. You didn't have a choice," he said softly, reminding him.

McGee glanced at him briefly, taking a sip out of the mug. "When I think about what I did today, I don't feel anything. No regret, no remorse, no relief… nothing."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Probie, but you already lost your cherry, months ago. Benedict."

McGee frowned. "Is it always like this, in a justified shooting? The next time I have to kill someone before they kill me, or you, or whoever… will I still not feel anything then, either?"

Tony stopped a moment in his tracks. Now, he understood.

"Timmy… you're not feeling guilty because you killed a guy today. You're feeling guilty because you don't feel guilty."

"Maybe," McGee granted. Tony was right - he'd just hit the nail on the head, he realized.

"Look, it's part of the job, I don't have to tell you that by now. Remember about 7 months ago, when that guy pulled a gun on you, and Gibbs shot him before he shot you?"

"Yeah," McGee answered, sounding intrigued at where Tony was going with this.

"You pulled your gun, too. But Gibbs was quicker on the draw that time, and you're alive because of it." Tony paused a moment, sighing deeply. "And I'm alive right now, walking and talking with you, because you were quicker on the draw than I was today, and your aim was true. That bastard was going to kill me, and you didn't let him. I owe you my life, Tim. Don't feel guilty about that."

"I don't, Tony, believe me, I don't regret what I did today. I just can't… I don't understand why I don't feel anything for killing that guy."

"If he had been an innocent, like Benedict was - and don't forget that we _still_ don't know that it _was_ you who killed him - then you'd be feeling lower than a snake's belly in tall grass right now. But this guy was a dangerous criminal. He'd already killed three people and I would have been the fourth if you hadn't killed him first."

McGee looked at his older colleague, and smiled slightly. "So… I don't feel anything because it's just part of the job, and I just did my job? That's it?"

"McGee, when you were pinned down behind the car, at the warehouse, when Kate died… when you were firing at that terrorist that ducked back in and popped out on the roof… did you have any doubts then? Did you feel bad for wanting him dead? He was trying to kill you."

McGee shook his head. "Honestly, I never even thought about it, Tony. I just drew and fired. It was me or him… and I wasn't gonna let it be me."

Tony grinned. "You've got your groove back, Probie. Welcome back, friend." He clapped him on the back and draped an arm around his shoulders, as they continued walking and talking, in the cool D.C. night air.


End file.
